


Now you're my husband

by Leu (Karaii)



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Albus convinces Gellert to give up being a terrorist, And become a Hogwarts professor with him AU, Fluff and Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:26:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21527494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karaii/pseuds/Leu
Summary: "We promised ourselves to one another, then: in life, and beyond death.” Albus murmured into his hair. “Or was that a lie, Gellert Grindelwald?”Gellert twitched as if in pain. Then he sighed, and wrapped his arms around the man who had both unmanned him and made him a man, again. “No,” he muttered sulkily. “I meant it. I will always mean it.”
Relationships: Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald
Comments: 13
Kudos: 147





	Now you're my husband

**Author's Note:**

> This whole thing is tonally dissonant from start to finish but I had fun drabbling it, so I hope you enjoy reading it XD

“How about we visit Vienna this weekend?” Gellert asked. “I’d rather not do Paris again.” It had nothing to do with how jealous he was of how much time Albus had spent with that obnoxious supercentenarian the last three times they’d been there. Nothing at all.

“Oh, dear! I forgot,” Albus said. “I’m actually booked this weekend.”

“What?” Gellert looked very put out. “Why?” With Albus being a full-time Hogwarts professor and Gellert an internationally sought-after terrorist, they could really only spend time together on weekends, and Gellert defended that time fiercely.

“I’ve promised to tutor Mister Scamander,” Albus said. “He wants to be an Auror one day."

“Scamander?” Gellert sneered. “The one that still can’t transfigure a rat into a teacup?”

“No, that’s Newton, Theseus’ younger brother.” Albus smiled fondly. “And Newt’s perfectly capable of it. He’s just adverse towards doing magic on animals.”

“He was just fine defending that little friend of his when she tried to transfigure you,” Gellert muttered resentfully. “Where were his ethical sensibilities then?”

“Oh, no permanent harm was done,” Albus said cheerfully. “I looked quite dashing with peacock feathers growing out of my arms. And Miss Lestrange’s skills are quite promising! It took me over thirty seconds to figure out how to reverse it. Remarkable!”

"I’m not having this argument with you again,” Gellert flapped his hand dismissively. “Go teach the better Scamander. But you must make it up to me.”

Albus smiled. “Oh, I will.”

Gellert flushed a little at the tone. He would look forward to it.

But then Albus declined their next weekend, too!

“That Scamander boy again?” Gellert said, feeling uncomfortably jealous.

“And the Ilvermorny transfer, Percival Graves,” Albus said apologetically, but he couldn’t hide his enthusiasm. “They have very interesting ideas on the defensive applications of inorganic transfiguration. We may yet publish ourselves an article!”

“I have interesting ideas about it, too,” Gellert protested. “Was it not I that taught you how many killing curses a transfigured shield could take before breaking?”

Albus stiffened. “That’s not something we should talk about while I’m at Hogwarts, Gellert.”

“It was one for inorganic materials,” Gellert said. “And two for organic matter. Three for gold. Remember?”

“Gellert,” Albus said, a little more coldly.

“All I’m saying is that I have plenty of ideas, if you need them,” Gellert muttered.

Albus sighed, and then that sigh turned into a fond smile. “I know, my dear. But I am merely tutoring young minds. Encouraging their growth.” He leaned in close, and kissed the side of Gellert’s mouth. “Enamoring them...now that is only between you and I.”

That cheered Gellert up well enough.

But being declined a third weekend? Even Gellert’s patience had limits, and three--the number of the Deathly Hallows--was absolutely it.

“I’m joining your stupid tutoring session,” Gellert said. “Even if I have to Polyjuice myself to do so. I won’t tolerate another week without you.”

“Gellert,” Albus said, exasperated. “You know I can’t just let you into the castle without permission.”

“I Floo over all the time,” Gellert protested. “I’ve even Apparated in!”

“Yes, but we’re not supposed to,” Albus said. “Do you know how many laws I’ve broken just by modifying the Hogwarts wards itself to accommodate you?”

Gellert was incensed. “If I’m such a fucking burden to you, then just tell me plainly!”

“Gellert--”

He didn’t let Albus finish. Gellert cut the Floo connection and blasted it to pieces in a fit of temper. He half-expected Albus to Apparate in regardless, for surely Albus knew Gellert’s safe houses well enough to deduce which one he was currently staying at, but nothing happened for the next ten minutes. It was time enough for Gellert to cool down, and feel a little ashamed of his childish behavior.

But not ashamed enough to overcome his pride.

So Gellert went to thrice-damned Paris and animated the Eiffel Tower itself with twelve elegant self-sustaining runes, a dash of trans-species Transfiguration, and sheer brute strength, terrorizing the muggles and French wizards for a good solid hour before he gave them the slip and buggered off to Bulgaria. If one of the legs of the Tower crushed the house of Nicolas Flamel, then so what? That old bastard needed some action in his life that didn’t involve Albus Dumbledore in any shape, way, or form.

Albus, of course, was Not Amused. He was waiting for Gellert in his safe house at Samokov, looking both pretty and pissed the fuck off.

“Gellert Grindelwald,” Albus said coldly. “First of all, you will not ever cut me off in the middle of a sentence like that again.”

Gellert sulked. “I suppose that was very rude of me, Alchen. I’m sorry.”

“Second of all, you will not terrorize a random city just because of a temper tantrum ever again.”

“It wasn’t random,” Gellert muttered.

“Thirdly!” Albus said louder still. “You must be on your best bloody behaviour or I swear, Gellert, I will never give you this opportunity again. Promise me!”

"Opportunity?” Gellert perked up.

Albus inhaled and exhaled sharply. “I’ve gotten permission from Headmaster Dippet to invite my mysterious life partner to work with me at Hogwarts. But!” He held up a silencing hand. “You must promise me these three things, Gellert. I take my job very seriously.”

Gellert reviewed the three demands. They felt a little restrictive, honestly, but there were few things in this life that were more precious to Gellert than Albus, and, in the end, it was not a great sacrifice to say, “Ok, Albus. I promise.”

For wizards as strong as they were, sincerity was magically binding enough to approach a proper Vow.

“Fantastic,” Albus beamed. “I may have also made a deal with the British Ministry of Magic in exchange for letting you stay by my side.”

“Wait-- _what_?!”

“I’m not calling you by anything but your real name,” Albus said with a harrumph. “But you spent a great deal of time making people in high places quite scared of it, so I had to get creative.”

“What deal did you make!” Gellert sputtered.

“Thankfully you haven’t caused much ruckus in the United Kingdom,” Albus said, smiling. “So I promised them you would become a naturalized citizen under my supervision, that we would conform to the Ministry of Magic’s laws to the best of our abilities, and you would use your remarkable intellect provide solutions to the Ministry’s problems should they need your aid in, say, taking down wizards of your calibre.”

“Albus Dumbledore!” Gellert roared. “What have you done!” He’d promised to be on his best behaviour, and that clause contained the implication of his best behaviour as understood by Albus, which now, it seemed, implied following Albus’ own promises to the letter. “You’ve practically enslaved me!”

“Well,” Albus said primly. “Turnabout is fair play. I do recall you seducing me into a Blood Pact that, unbeknownst to my youthful innocence, meant I would be unable to do you any harm.”

“You’re harming me right now,” Gellert moaned. “I hate you!”

“No you don’t,” Albus said confidently. “You love me.”

“You’ve unmanned me,” Gellert continued, gnashing his teeth. “Now I’m a dog for your country!”

Albus drew in close, and gathered Gellert in his arms. Gellert tried to push back, but Albus was quite stubborn when he wanted to be, and eventually Gellert just let it happen.

“No,” Albus confessed quietly. “Now you’re my husband.”

Gellert’s lip wobbled. He’d had such great plans for the world, and Albus had just dashed them quite completely.

“We promised ourselves to one another, then: in life, and beyond death.” Albus murmured into his hair. “Or was that a lie, Gellert Grindelwald?”

Gellert twitched as if in pain. Then he sighed, and wrapped his arms around the man who had both unmanned him and made him a man, again. “No,” he muttered sulkily. “I meant it. I will always mean it.”

Albus smiled, and kissed the crown of his head. “As will I, mein Schatz.” He pulled Gellert back, and beamed. “So, will you come home with me, Gellert?”

“You are my home, Albus,” Gellert said helplessly, and Albus’ happiness was so intense that he accidentally transfigured all the leaves in the nearest kilometer radius into butterflies, and the both of them had to Apparate back to Britain through three different countries, giggling like schoolchildren, just to avoid the swarm of ICW aurors hot on their tail.

Once there, Albus led Gellert to the Ministry of Magic, holding his hand the whole way through. To his credit Gellert tried to run only once; Albus held on tight and convinced him to stay and see it done right.

“For the greater good?” Gellert said, bitterly.

“No,” Albus murmured. “For me. For us.”

And so Gellert stood trial and swallowed Veritaserum and made a bloody Vow and it was all incredibly obnoxious and binding, but it was sped along a fair amount when Albus casually implied that he, himself, would become thrice the terrorist if they would not allow Gellert to stay by his side, and somehow all this was enough to cow the whole of the Ministry into permitting his first year at Hogwarts on a trial basis.

It came at a cost: Albus would never again be trusted with a high position in the Ministry or abroad -- no one would ever award him the Order of Merlin, or permit him to become Supreme Mugwump, or, Merlin forbid, the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. But Albus didn’t mind much at all. He had all the world with him at Hogwarts now -- his students, his magic, and his husband.

And what a world it was!

“Albus--” Headmaster Armando Dippet sputtered. “What--Who--”

“As promised,” Albus said, eyes twinkling, “This is my husband, Gellert Grindelwald.”

“Hallo,” Gellert said grumpily, tired after thirty-some hours of interrogation and blood-magicks binding him to docility outside of classrooms and his and Albus’ quarters.

“Your husband is the Dark wizard Grindelwald?!” Headmaster Dippet squeaked. “The TERRORIST?”

“Former,” Albus corrected with great cheer. “And now quite reformed.”

Headmaster Dippet subsequently fainted, only not braining himself on the floor thanks to Albus’ quick transfiguration of a dust mote into a cushion. After Albus revived him and Gellert offered him some German Schnaps, and between the both of them charmed the poor man enough to make his head spin, Headmaster Dippet threw his hands up and said, “Fine! Fine, Albus, you win! Do whatever you want!" and promptly threw them out of his office.

“That went well,” Albus said cheerfully.

“Only you would say that, Schatz,” Gellert groused. But he reached out and took Albus’ hand, and laced their fingers together, and he thought, hell, maybe it really was all well after all.

“Look, he’s right there--hello, Professor Dumbledore!”

It was a lanky teenager, with a strong jaw and brighter eyes. He was trailed behind by a stern-looking youth with very stern-looking eyebrows. Both were wearing schoolboy outfits overlaid by black cloaks with different crests embroidered into them. No way--were they--?

“Ah! Mister Scamander and Mister Graves,” Albus said, delighted. “How may I help you?”

Gellert stiffened, finally having faces to the names of the two little shits that had indirectly caused this final outcome.

“The Order missed you last weekend,” the probable Mister Scamander said. “You didn’t show up at all!”

“And you’re never late,” the probable Mister Graves said. “Not without forewarning. Did something happen?”

“Ah, about that,” Albus said, with a twinkle in his eye. He hadn’t yet let go of Gellert’s hand, and the two boys’ eyes were immediately drawn to it. "Family emergency, I'm afraid, but it's all fixed now."

The boys eyes were round, darting from Albus to Gellert, slowly connecting the dots.

“The Order?” Gellert interrupted their revelation. “What is that?”

“Ah, about that,” Albus repeated, with a slight laugh in his tone. “I believe it’s the name of my fan club.”

“You have a--” Gellert sputtered. “ _What!_ ” The jealousy flared again. Albus had been ditching him for weeks for _THIS?_

__

__

“It’s not a fan club,” The Scamander brat protested, turning bright red and betraying the fact that it probably had started as a fucking fan club.

“It’s a study club,” The Graves boy said gravely. “We’re the presidents."

“If anyone’s the president of your fan club, Albus, it’s me,” Gellert said hotly.

“Oh my,” Albus said, smiling broadly.

“You! I’ll duel you both for ownership of this club!” Gellert pointed his finger at the two boys.

“What?”

“Huh?!”

“Gellert, my dear, you can’t use magic outside of class,” Albus reminded him.

“Ach--then I’ll fist-fight them for the right!”

“Or any form of violence,” Albus murmured. “Or all the foul language I don’t need Legilimancy to hear you saying.”

“Aghh!” Gellert threw his hands up. “That’s it, Albus! I’ve had it!”

“You can’t duel students,” Albus said mildly. “But you may duel me, if you like.”

Scamander and Graves were stared back-and-forth between them as if it were a Quidditch match.

“I can’t harm you either, remember?” Gellert groused, rubbing at his chest where he kept their blood troth, never far from his heart.

“Exactly,” Albus said happily. “We can duel each other to our heart’s content without fear, for the magic will protect us.”

“Huh.” That actually stopped Gellert short. “I never realized our Vow could work that way.”

“I was always a little more clever than you, my dear Gellert,” Albus smiled.

“Now I’m definitely dueling you,” Gellert growled.

And that’s the start of the story of how Gellert Grindelwald, wizarding Europe’s most infamous international terrorist, eventually came to become Professor Grindelwald, the grumpy but well-loved professor of Divination at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Oh, it wasn’t easy. Nothing Albus did was easy, though he certainly made it seem so. But it was always worth it, in the end.

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe I'll write more of this AU someday :3 There's a lot of fun shenanigans that can still be explored!


End file.
